The Rainbow Wizards
by Juana de las Nieves
Summary: A story that I hope will address various aspects of the wizarding world that Rowling never got to cover. It begins in the year 2018, and features mostly OCs. Ignores the awful epilogue, which I shall rue eternally. Hope you enjoy it.
1. Chapter 1: The Best Birthday Present

_**Disclaimer: **Don't sue me. I don't claim to own any of the characters and plots that are rightly Rowling's. It's all hers._

Most people sincerely believe that Elsie and Imogene McKinnon are twins. They are both petite, with pointed chins, cloudy black hair, and dramatically thick eyebrows. Imogene only gives away the slightest hint that she might be the elder sister with her inch of height over Elsie. She is, in fact, only a year older than her sister, though few outside of their school guess at it. Even their elementary school classmates, who knew that they were in different forms, sometimes whispered that Elsie had been held back, or Imogene moved ahead a year.

No one who knows them well, though, could mix them up. Imogene takes issue with everything about herself. From age ten onward, she begged her mother to tweeze her eyebrows, because she hated how thick they were. When she turned sixteen, she finally did it without her mother's permission, and went off to get her hair dyed and permed too, since she doesn't like her hair either, or any of her other features. Other people's opinions of her are her obsession, even the opinions of strangers. Nothing torments her more than the fear of social rejection.

Elsie has always been very different. She loves her eyebrows and thinks that they give her character. She is quite aware of what other people think of her, but doesn't care too much. As a child, she was always enchanted by the tale of how England turned from a tyrannical monarchy to a parliamentary democracy. Elsie does, however, automatically look up to her elders, and authority figures, and tends to assume that their intentions are benign. She is very close to Imogene and treats her as if she were twenty years her elder, not one.

But there has always been another thing that has set the sisters apart, which they scarcely noticed as children, but that worried their parents. Good luck abounded wherever Elsie went. When she went to the candy store and wanted a blue gumball, even if there had been only pink gumballs when she went in, she always mysteriously walked out with a blue one. The girls shared a music box that played one of three tunes when they turned the crank, one of which was a very sad, slow, boring tune. Imogene got all three tunes equally when she turned the crank, but when Elsie turned it, she never seemed to get the boring one. When Elsie played card games with her friends, she always got the best hand, even when someone else was dealing. It all made Imogene very jealous, but Elsie was always apologetic about it, and wished she could have given all her good fortune to her sister.

"Don't you ever think it's _uncanny_?" Mr. McKinnon would ask his wife. "You know, Elsie's luck? The way she - "

Mrs. McKinnon would interrupt with a loud snort. "Nonsense! There's no such thing as luck, dear, just skill and circumstance. Imogene does very well in school, and you never call it luck. Elsie just has a skill outside the academic, you know? Life skills. Resourcefulness. Ingenious - "

"It is neither resourceful nor ingenious that _every single time_ Elsie stoops to pick up a penny, it comes up heads," Mr. McKinnon would insist. "You and me and Imogene and everyone else we know find pennies tails up _some _of the time."

"Didn't you ever study probability, Walter? It's empirically possible for that to happen. Just give it a rest." And they would give it a rest, until the next extraordinary thing happened. Elsie remained blissfully unaware. Being the child she was, the fantastical was a part of her daily life when she played at being a fairy princess with her friends, and her good luck was just another part of the life she led in her imagination.

Elsie's imaginary life ended at her doorstep as she entered her house, however, since Imogene turned twelve and decided that she was too old to pretend she was a fairy princess. There was no magic in the beige carpeted floor of the den, or the checkered linoleum in the kitchen, or the flickering light of the TV screen. Elsie was therefore disappointed to hear that her parents wanted to celebrate her eleventh birthday with a family dinner instead of a party at the local museum, where she had celebrated turning ten.

That day, Elsie's family did all her favorite activities: racing underwater at the swimming pool, swing dancing, and going to a fancy tea parlor in downtown London. When the McKinnons arrived home, Elsie and Imogene ran upstairs to draw pictures of butterflies, and their parents cooked Elsie's favorite meal, halibut with tartar sauce, with an angel's-food birthday cake for dessert. They called upstairs that dinner was ready, and Imogene and Elsie practically tripped each other running to the dining room. Mrs. McKinnon poured apple juice for her daughters, and they tucked into their fish.

Imogene noticed a shape in the window, feebly outlined against the darkness. With her mouth full, she exclaimed, "Zhair'zh an owww azh zhe window!"

"Swallow before you speak, sweetie," said Mr. McKinnon kindly.

His daughter took a mighty gulp and clarified, "There's an owl at the window!" Just then, it rapped its beak against the pane, and Elsie got to her feet in excitement.

"It wants to come in!" she squealed, and before her parents could protest or even move, she dashed to the window and opened it. Elsie loved birds and could think of no better birthday present than having an owl in her dining room.

It was a pale saw-whet owl with intense yellow eyes. It could have been any owl of its species, except for the glaring fact that saw-whet owls do not carry letters in their beaks. It dropped the letter on the table, then hooted softly. The letter had the right address, but no return address and no stamps. But what made Elsie's breath freeze in her lungs was that it was addressed to _her_. Not to Imogene. Not to her parents. _Elsie McKinnon_, she read over and over in her head with great relish. She turned to her sister and beamed. "It's probably a birthday gift from a _real live_ fairy princess, Imogene! Isn't this the perfect way for a fairy princess to send a letter? By owl?" This was an even better birthday gift than an owl in her dining room: a birthday gift from a fairy!

"Why haven't I ever gotten a birthday gift from a fairy princess, then?" said Imogene, turning to her parents expectantly. But they were frozen like statues, speechless. Mr. McKinnon's throat worked, but no sound came out.

"Is it a bomb?" Mrs. McKinnon finally managed to croak.

With trembling hands, Mr. McKinnon picked up the letter and stared at it. "No," he said at length. "It's too thin. It couldn't hold anything but a few sheets of paper." The owl hooted again, and he blanched and let the letter drop.

"What are we going to do?" rasped Mrs. McKinnon, her voice still gravelly and horrible with fear.

"Let me open it, it's _my_ birthday gift!" whined Elsie.

Mr. McKinnon tore the letter to pieces and threw it in the wastepaper basket. "It's not safe. Now, let's get this owl out of here and call the police." He dove for the saw-whet owl, and Elsie started to cry. Imogene's eyes were bright with anger, fear, and jealousy. Mrs. McKinnon just poured herself some wine and brought it to her lips, though it splashed everywhere from the jerking movements of her hand.

The owl would not suffer the indignity of being captured by Mr. McKinnon. Instead, it hooted and glided out the window, leaving only an emotional ruin to mark its visit. Elsie was no longer sure that the owl's visit had been the perfect birthday present.


	2. Chapter 2: An Unexpected Visitor

_**Disclaimer: **Don't sue me. I don't claim to own any of the characters and plots that are rightly Rowling's. It's all hers._

That night, Elsie had a dream that her two best friends were wrestling and she couldn't decide who to root for. When she woke up, she had a headache, for she had been awakened unmercifully early by a loud rapping...coming from her window.

Though Elsie's bedside clock read 7:30a.m., there was an owl at her window. For a second, she was uncomprehending, until she remembered the events of the previous night. Her heart hammered excitedly in her chest: her parent's couldn't be awake, or she would surely have heard the distinctive sound of the coffee machine brewing. She leapt out of bed and opened her window. It was not the same owl from last night. This was a little screech owl, but it had the same letter tucked in its beak. It dropped the letter on her bed, then perched expectantly on the windowsill and watched with its huge yellow eyes.

This fairy princess must really want her to get her gift, Elsie decided, so she opened the letter before her parents could wake up and ruin it all.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_All necessary books and equipment for first year students:_

_UNIFORM_

_First-Year students will require:_

_Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings) _

_Please not that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags_

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshank_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_Facing the Darkness by Harry Potter_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size)_

_1 set of glass or crystal phials _

_1 telescope_

_1 set of brass scales _

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

_If you have any questions about our first year student guidelines, please send us an owl. _

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Witchcraft and Wizardry. The words resounded very satisfactorily in Elsie's brain. The fairy princess wasn't a fairy princess after all, but the headmistress of a magic school, and her name was Minerva McGonagall. Elsie was going to learn magic. If her parents let her. Her stomach writhed. What if they insisted it wasn't safe? What if she couldn't go? Most of all, what about Imogene?

Elsie looked up from the wonderful letter and realized that the screech owl was gone. Then there was a very faint "pop", and an alarmingly hairy man appeared in her bedroom with a strange cat balanced on his shoulders. She dropped the letter with a little shriek. This man was the strangest, and by far the hairiest she had ever seen. He was wearing dark turquoise robes spangled with copper. His dark brown hair came down nearly to his ankles, and his beard down to his waist. His mustache was so large as to obscure his mouth entirely, and his eyebrows were bushy enough to overshadow his eyes and make their color indistinguishable. Even the backs of his hands were hairy, and those very hands held a wand, which Elsie could not help but stare at. Only when the hairy man stashed the wand in his robes could she bring her attention to the strange cat on his shoulders.

This particular feline is cream with golden flecks, and it is even more lean and well-balanced than most cats. Its ears are a bit too large, and its tail has a tuft at the end. Its large orange eyes are fully of canny intelligence. This feline is obviously a wily creature, and even at such a young age, Elsie was fully aware of that.

"You're speechless, I see," said the hairy man, bemused. "My name is Incomius Bard, and I'm the librarian at Hogwarts. You know, Elsie, contrary to myth, standing with your eyes wide and your mouth open like that does not frighten off Chizpurfles. If you've got an infestation in your electrical circuits, it's best to contact pest control at the Ministry of Magic. Well, you're Muggle-born, of course, you can't have heard of...forget it. Well, Elsie, I'm to explain Minerva's letter to you and your family, and should your parents agree to let you go, I'll get you all set for attendance at Hogwarts."

Half of Mr. Bard's rambling greeting was gibberish to Elsie, but everything else he said made her brain clamor with so many questions she thought her skull might rupture. "How did you get here? How do you know me?"

The feline on Mr. Bard's shoulders leapt to the ground and started to slink around Elsie's bedroom. Mr. Bard clapped the girl on the back and said, "I Apparated here, my dear, which is to say that I magically disappeared from my home and reappeared in yours. I know who you are and that you are a witch because the headmistress saw your name in her book. The enchanted quill wrote it down, and it's never wrong. As a young British witch, we have offered you the chance to attend our fine school. In your case, there's the difficulty that Muggle parents get very agitated when they learn about magic, so I'm here to smooth that out, since I know..." A pause. "A thing or two about Muggles."

Elsie had no idea what "Muggle" meant, but it sounded very silly and unimportant, so she felt justified in exclaiming, "My parents are not Muggles!"

Mr. Bard's thick eyebrows rose. "If they aren't Muggles, then why did they tear up the letter we sent last night? You're the only witch in your family, Elsie."

It felt like a scandal to Elsie, as if she'd accidentally happened upon her parents skinny-dipping at the beach. It all made sense to her. She was different. She had been the only one happy to see the owl. She was the only one who never got the boring tune on the music box. When she really wanted things to go her way, they always did, while her family bemoaned the injustice of life. At once she felt different from her family, special, and at once she also felt guilty for the pleasure that sensation gave her. Elsie did not want to be better than her family, but she also wanted to go to this Hogwarts School, more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. "Imogene can't come with me?" she asked, almost pleading. In her inner conflict, she had failed to notice that Mr. Bard's pet was systematically inspecting her room.

"I'm afraid that Hogwarts can only admit witches and wizards, Elsie," said Mr. Bard. His pet was pawing at the music box. "What have you found there, Sisuat?"

"See-zoo-aht?" sounded out Elsie. "Why is your cat trying to open my music box?"

"Sisuat's only a quarter cat, actually. She's mostly Kneazle. Magical feline. They make excellent pets for wizards. They're very smart, and have a way of detecting suspicious character and concealed enchantment. She seems to suspect your music box. What did you do to it?"

Elsie gulped and watched Sisuat bat the box curiously with her paw. "I didn't enchant it! Or, at least, I didn't mean to. But it plays different songs for me than for everyone else." Her face colored. Everything that distinguished her from her family and likened her to this man was wonderful yet disquieting. Mr. Bard opened his mouth, about to say something, but then she heard faint footsteps and the gurgle of the coffee machine. "Oh! My parents must be awake. Can you help me explain to them, Mr. Bard?"

"That's what I'm here for," he said, and he stood at the top of the stairs, watching Elsie go down. Sisuat reluctantly left the music box behind and joined him.

"Mum! Dad!" shouted Elsie as she ran downstairs. "I got another owl this morning and read the letter! It's not a bomb! Look!" She looked back over her shoulder, but Mr. Bard and Sisuat were nowhere in sight. Mrs. McKinnon slammed her coffee mug so hard on the table that it splashed everywhere, but she made no move to clean it up. Elsie brandished the letter at her parents, and they read with increasing confusion and fear.

"What kind of nonsense is this!" roared Mr. McKinnon, and he seized the letter from her. "Whose idea fo a joke is all this? Owls, witchcraft?" By now he was visibly trembling. It was then that Mr. Bard silently removed the Disillusionment Charm from himself and his pet. Imogene walked in, and Mrs. McKinnon fainted.

Mr. McKinnon let out an earsplitting scream. "_Langlock_!" said Mr. Bard, pointing his wand at the hysterical father's mouth, and the noise promptly ended, Mr. McKinnon's tongue secured firmly to the roof of his mouth. Wild-eyes and pale, but defeated, he merely watched in cowed silence as Mr. Bard pointed his wand at Mrs. McKinnon and muttered, "_Rennervate._" She blinked and got to her feet.

For he moment, the house was utterly silent. Elsie was hugging her sister, trying to soothe her. Mr. McKinnon's face worked as he tried to free his tongue from Mr. Bard's spell. Then Sisuat meowed, and Mr. Bard reversed his Tongue-Tying Curse. Imogene demanded, "Who are you and what are you doing in our house?"

For the second time that morning, but under very different circumstances, Mr. Bard introduced himself. "I am the librarian at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Incomius Bard. I Apparated here to offer Elsie McKinnon admittance to Hogwarts."

"Y-you mean you're going to teach our Elsie to d-do magic?" stammered Mrs. McKinnon. "Like you just did?"

Mr. Bard began to clean spilled coffee from the table with his wand, and Mr. McKinnon stared at him. "Not exactly, Mrs. McKinnon. Elsie is a witch. She was born that way. She can already do magic, and in fact, has. I take it you've noticed some unusual occurrences around Elsie? That music box, for instance?"

The McKinnon Muggles collectively blanched. "It never plays her the boring tune," said Imogene through nerveless lips.

"Couldn't that just be a coincidence? Our Elsie can't be a - a _witch_," whispered Mrs. McKinnon.

"I'm afraid I can prove it," said Mr. Bard. Mr. McKinnon was still staring at him, and he glanced back for a moment. He waved his wand, and red sparks trailed from it. He passed it to Imogene. "Wave it, then pass it on." Imogene waved it. Nothing happened. Her face fell. Mrs. McKinnon took it, handling it as if it were a stick of dynamite. She waved it. Nothing. She passed it to her husband, who was still staring. He waved it. Still nothing. But when he gave it to Elsie and she gave it an excited wave, it spurted white sparks. Then she waved it all around her head, merrily creating a fountain of sparks.

"How can we get rid of it? The magic?" asked Mr. McKinnon.

Elsie was indignant. "Dad, I don't want it to go away!" She reached up and let the sparks settle on her fingers.

"Can you give it to someone who doesn't have it?" asked Imogene eagerly.

"Magic isn't like my wand. It can't be passed around." Mr. Bard crooked his finger meaningfully, and Elsie passed him back his wand. "They've finally figured out what makes a wizard, you know. Your chances directly depend on how often you come in contact with elder (the most powerfully magical wood) during pregnancy. Witches are far more likely to come in contact with it than pregnant Muggles because it's used in so many magical objects, but if a Muggle happens to own - "

Mr. McKinnon cut him off. "What's a Muggle?"

"Non-magical person. Muggles can give birth to wizards, though, as is the case with your family," said Mr. Bard. "Look, why don't we get a little more comfortable?" He waved his wand, and another coffee mug floated from the counter and landed on the table. With another wave, he performed a Refilling Charm on them. He Summoned orange juice and glasses for the children. Sensing their disquietude, he told the Muggles, "You can make toast non-magically if you'd like." Mr. McKinnon sat down and drank his coffee; Mrs. McKinnon stood and took him up on the offer. "You can learn how to do all that at Hogwarts," Mr. Bard told a delighted Elsie. Imogene, a cat-fancier, started to scratch Sisuat between the ears. She closed her eyes and accepted, but did not purr. "Sisuat's not used to being petted by Muggles," apologized Mr. Bard. "Try under her chin, that usually makes her happy."

Mrs. McKinnon came back with toast and strawberry jam, and everyone but Mr. Bard ate. When Elsie's mother was finished, she said, "So why should we send our daughter to this school?"

"Why can't she just stay with us and never use magic again?" added Mr. McKinnon.

Elsie was furious, and started to cry a little. Mr. Bard exhaled to keep his calm. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. McKinnon. As she is now, untrained, she has no control over her magic. Elsie is a sweet child and means no harm, but is nonetheless potentially dangerous as she is now. Magic only gets stronger with puberty. Next time she loses her temper, she could make the silverware come to life or start a magical fire, which cannot be extinguished by Muggle firefighters." He shot an apologetic look to Elsie, who was plainly horrified. "I know you wouldn't mean to do something like that, dear."

There was a silence, as huge and complex as a sentient mind. Mrs. McKinnon spoke. "I think we need some time to talk about this, as a family, Mr. Bard. Is there any way we can contact you with our decision?" She puttered over to the living room to get her address book, as if clinging to some remote hope that a wizard could be contacted by something as refreshingly normal as a telephone.

Mr. Bard nodded. "I'll just leave Sisuat with you a while. When you've come to a decision, remove her collar. Don't bother to feed her or anything, she can take care of herself." He stood and bowed. "I wish I could have met you under more pleasant circumstances. You seem like a delightful family. I hope I can get to know Elsie better in the future." He walked toward the door slowly, tapping his wand gently against his temple, and as he swept by Mr. McKinnon, he surreptitiously touched his wand to the other man's skull, leaving the faintest silvery trail behind it. He murmured a few words, and the silver trail disappeared into Mr. McKinnon's head. It was all done so quickly and silently that none of the other McKinnons noticed it, but when it was done, their patriarch was visibly trembling. But by the time his family noticed it, Mr. Bard had already Disapparated, and they attributed the shaking to shock over his sudden disappearance, which they were certainly feeling as well.

"That man has much to answer for," whispered Mr. McKinnon. His wife and daughters thought they understood. But they didn't have a clue.


	3. Chapter 3: A Falling Out

_**Disclaimer: **Don't sue me. I don't claim to own any of the characters and plots that are rightly Rowling's. It's all hers._

_See if you can catch the reference to a famous poem that I have embedded in this chapter._

Much to Elsie's dismay, Sisuat staunchly ignored all Muggles who approached her. She would tolerate Imogene for a moment when scratched under the chin, but then she would toss her head and slink away. The magical feline had a demeanor befitting a miniature lioness. Sisuat was quite peaceable around Elsie, but the young witch hardly liked her back, considering how she was treating her family and friends. Elsie knew, from listening to Mr. Bard with feverish attention, that it was not in Sisuat's nature to befriend Muggles. Still, it was hard not to resent what felt like an implicit rejection of everyone she had come to know and love.

That day, Elsie met with her best friends Susie Baxter and Melanie Cole at the ice cream parlor down the street. Each girl bought her favorite flavor (Elsie's has always been orange sherbet) and sat cross-legged on the bench facing the street. Elsie was glad to be away from her hysterical parents, moody sister, and Mr. Bard's suspicious pet. But the joys of range sherbet could not long distract her from thoughts of Mr. Bard's visit. It played on an endless loop in her head. "Care to say hello to the Earthlings, space cadet?" teased Susie.

Elsie just continued to lick at her ice cream pensively. Finally, she said, "Melanie...Susie...do you think magic is real? Like, really real?" She started to eat the sherbet at a greater pace, since it was starting to drip onto her new blouse.

"Maybe," said Melanie quietly, shrugging.

"Yeah, really real," said Susie, "just like ghosts and aliens and the Loch Ness monster. Just like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and - "

"Shut up," said Elsie, uncharacteristically losing her temper. No one really tried to make Elsie angry, so she rarely felt this way. "How do _you _know? Maybe I'm a witch. Maybe I go fly off on a broom at night and you don't know it. You wouldn't be able to tell."

"I think someone would notice if witches were flying around on brooms at night!" retorted Susie. "My dad works the night shift at the bank. He's a security guard. He never sees _witches_."

Elsie's heart sank. Susie did have a point. What if Mr. Bard had been elaborately tricking her all along? How could there possibly be witches and wizards without Muggles noticing? But then she remembered the way Mr. Bard could appear and disappear without a trace. "Maybe the magic is hidden. Maybe we just can't see it."

"You're still a baby, Elsie, aren't you?" said Susie. "You still read your old fairy tale books. Well, you know, we're about to go into secondary school, and they beat up kids like you. They beat them up and send them home crying to their mummies and daddies."

Melanie finished her cone and rounded on her friend. "Now you be quiet, Susie! Elsie is very nice and nobody's going to beat her up at secondary school because they'll like her too much."

The argument entirely forgotten, Susie began, "Say, where are you two going to secondary school? My parents are sending me to St. Catherine's in Liverpool, but I'll be back for every holiday, I promise."

"I'm going to a prep school right in London," said Melanie, "so I don't have to be too far from my parents. How about you, Elsie?"

Tossing out the remainder of her cone, she said loftily, "Don't know yet. But not the same school as Imogene, I don't think."

"Really?" Susie was intrigued. "I'm going to the same school as my older sister, though I wish I weren't. Paula's just like a big mean _dragon_."

"I thought you didn't believe in magic."

"Elsie, it's just an expression! You've really got your head in the clouds, haven't you? We're not little kids anymore, so stop acting like one. Why don't you go home and play with your stuffed animals and pretend they're having a tea party! I'm going to tell Paula about you, and she'll tell the whole neighborhood and they'll all call you a big baby and leave diapers on your doorstep."

"Susie, don't," pleaded Melanie.

Susie just curled her lip and stood up. She put her hands on her scrawny hips. "I'm going to find Paula. She always has cute boys with her, and they don't talk about rubbish like _magic_." Huffily, she tossed her long, dishwater-blonde hair over her shoulder, and stamped down the street.

"Don't worry, Elsie," said Melanie, putting her hand on her friend's shoulder. "She'll be back. She's just been a bit...moody lately."

Elsie's eyes shone with unborn tears. Together they went to a nearby park and skipped stones on the scummy green pond, exchanging few words. All Melanie would say was "I'm sorry" or "Please forgive her" and all Elsie would say was "I can't believe..." or "she'll be sorry". She wanted to go to Hogwarts more than ever, and learn all sorts of hexes she could use for her revenge on Susie. As she watched the frogs hop around on the banks of the pond, she imagined turning Susie into one of them. None of Paula's cute boys would want her then.

Melanie noticed the shadow flit across her friend's face, and suggested, "Come on, Elsie, let's go back to my house and we'll bake lemon rolls. I made some lemon curd with my mum last night."

"I can't bake for my life."

"I know." They went to Melanie's anyway. Elsie did very little baking outside of measuring out the necessary quantities of flour and sugar. While the lemon rolls were baking, Melanie got out a book of fairy tales and started reading. Elsie listened more closely to them than she ever had. If wizards were real, were fairies then real too? Would she get to meet one at Hogwarts? Could animals really talk, like they did in the stories? Sisuat was smart, but she couldn't talk and Elsie was glad of that, for she would likely make nothing but snide remarks. The owls Mr. Bard sent were smart enough to find her house, but they didn't speak to her either. She knew better than to ask Melanie if she thought that animals could talk, after what had happened with Susie.

By the time the lemon rolls were ready, the sun was just beginning to set. "I really ought to go home now, Melanie, but thanks for everything." Elsie gave her friend a hug, and wrapped up five of the lemon rolls in a paper towel.

"Hope you like them," said Melanie, escorting her out the door.

"I know I will." Elsie walked home to a seemingly empty house. She knew her family had to be there, so she put the lemon rolls down on the kitchen counter and went upstairs. Light spilled out from under Imogene's bedroom door, so surely she must be nestled there with some magazine or another. No light was apparent in her parents' room. Elsie rapped on the door. She heard a muffled noise and a few footsteps. The door opened. It was her mother in her pink floral bathrobe, just out of the shower. Her father was in bed, his head buried under a pillow. None of the lights were on.

"Your father has a headache, Elsie," said Ms. McKinnon. "Why don't you go to your room and read a book?"

"I want to talk to Dad!" demanded Elsie. She did not move an inch.

A groan issued from under the pillow. "What in bloody 'ell is goin' on, Audrey?"

"Nothing, honey. Go back to sleep."

"No! I want to talk to you!"

Mr. McKinnon surfaced from under his pillow. There were great bags under his eyes, and a stubble on his chin. "Not today, Elsie," he rasped.

"When, then?"

Her father dove back under the pillow. "A week from now, exactly," he said, his voice muffled. "You can time it if you like."

"I will." Elsie looked up at her mother expectantly. "What's for dinner, Mum?"

"I'll see what I can do about that," she said, and puttered downstairs, still in her bathrobe.

Elsie retreated to her little bedroom. When she turned on the lamp, she saw two intensely orange eyes staring up at her. "You're not like Puss in Boots, are you? You can't talk." Sisuat just meowed at her, disapprovingly, perhaps. At that moment Elsie remembered that she had a book about cats. She took it off the shelf, got into bed, and began to read. Though she did not know it, all the while Sisuat watched, and growled at the uglier cat pictures displayed. Eventually, she curled once about the bedpost, and fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4: The Song That Saved Them

_**Disclaimer: **Don't sue me. I don't claim to own any of the characters and plots that are rightly Rowling's. It's all hers._

_Watch out for minor angst this chapter._

"Why did they send you, Incomius? Why not a trained Muggle liaison wizard from the Ministry? They do this for a _living_. I fear you've entirely botched the job. Look at this. The girl's sister doesn't even speak to her anymore!"

"If you'd care to watch a little longer, Filius, you'll find out."

"This is too ingenious a device. I can hardly bear to stop watching, if only to figure out how it works."

Elsie had dinner with the Coles the following Sunday. She and Melanie played with the newest Cole, baby Zachary. He was gurgly and bright-eyed as a baby could be. Elsie and Melanie built tower after tower out of blocks so he could push them over. After the seventh resounding crash, a block hit Melanie's wall clock. She looked up at it and said, "Hey look, it's eight o'clock already! It feels like only six!"

It was then that Elsie realized that a week had passed. A week without Susie. A week of silent treatment from Imogene. A week when her father seemed much older than he ought to look. A week of her mother wringing her hands and feeding her husband chicken broth. "I gotta go home, Melanie. Can your parents drive me?" She was already looking forward to the day when she could just disappear home, like Mr. Bard did.

"Okay," said Melanie. "I had a lot of fun with you! You've got to come over and play with Zach again sometime."

"You bet." Mrs. Cole drove Elsie home in her old 2010 Prius. She said goodbye to Melanie's mother, leapt out of the car, and rang the doorbell. To her great surprise, her father answered it.

"Come on in, sweetie," he said. Mr. McKinnon was no less bedraggled than he had been all week. His favorite chair in the living room was covered in blankets and pillows, as he had been practically living in it lately. He sat in it and motioned for Elsie to take her preferred spot on the couch. "Audrey? Imogene? I need you down here!"

There was a long pause, the Mrs. McKinnon came downstairs, leading her sullen daughter by the hand. Imogene let her mother half-drag her to the couch in grim silence.

Mrs. McKinnon reached over and laid a hand on her husband's shoulder. "Are you quite sure you're ready, darling?"

"I don't think I ever want to speak of this again," he croaked, "but I have no choice. I promised Elsie. You deserve to know." Mrs. McKinnon squeezed his shoulder. Imogene kept her face carefully blank, her posture stiff and straight. Elsie leaned in eagerly, but worry and a dash of fear were etched across her face too. Sisuat came over, seemingly out of nowhere, and laid her head on Elsie's lap.

"When that man - Mr. Bard - left, he put that wand of his up to my head, and there was this weird silvery stuff on it, and, and..." Mr. McKinnon gulped. "I think it was one of his thoughts or memories or something, because it was like I knew what he knew or, or saw what he saw. I can't really describe it properly. It was as if these things had happened to me, but they were really _his_ recollections." He let out a shaky breath.

"Go on, darling," said his wife, giving his shoulder another squeeze. Imogene was watching Elsie absently pat Sisuat's head, and a single crease began to furrow her brow.

"I'll put it into words as best I can, I s'pose. Well, ah.." He bit his lip. "My, my mother..." A single tear rolled down his cheek, silently. Elsie had never seen her father cry like this before. It was disconcerting.

"We know you miss her dearly, Gary," said Mrs. McKinnon. Elsie did not know her grandmother. Gran had died long before she was born.

"Audrey, I don't know how to explain this to you, but Francine...my mother...she isn't dead. She was...captured...by some very bad people...long ago, when your dad was only a little boy. We, I mean, I had always thought she was dead...gone..." His wife passed him a handkerchief, and he wept into it quietly for a little while. Then he continued.

"I don't really understand who these people were, but they were _evil._ They treated her like an animal. Something less than human." He blew his nose loudly into the handkerchief. "What I do know is that these people were wizards. Terrible wizards. I will not speak of what they did to her, but...they tortured her so bad and left her in the wilderness where all these...magical creatures lived. They thought those things would eat her straightaway, but a wizard who happened to be flying overhead found her and rescued her. God, is she lucky to be alive. He brought her to a nearby wizard village, Hogsmeade I think it was called. The wizard took her in. Discovered she was pregnant. Because of her tormentors."

Mrs. McKinnon alternately gasped and chewed her fingernails. Elsie was hugging Sisuat as if the feline were her only link to reality. Imogene's expression was grim, her lips pressed into a tight line.

Mr. McKinnon screwed his eyes up tight, trying to make sense of Mr. Bard's thoughts. "I think there was a whole debate in the village, about what to do with her. They didn't want a - a Muggle living among them, some said. She couldn't remember anything from her old life, her life with me and my dad, they tortured her so bad. The wizard who saved her said that she had no place else to go, and that there was no better place to raise a young wizard than Hogsmeade. They almost kicked her out anyway."

He cast aside the sodden handkerchief and sat hunched over, speaking in a clipped monotone. "Then an old wizard came, looked like the brother of the wizard who saved Francine. He told them some really good news, can't really make sense of what it was. Everyone was celebrating. The old wizard told them to let Francine live there with the child, and when _he_ told them, everyone listened. Once they gave her a chance, they got to like her. She didn't remember anything but her first name, so she got used to...to wizard life pretty quickly, even though she herself wasn't one. Her neighbors liked her, especially her pretty singing voice." His eyes closed. "I remember it. The way she sang. They gave her a new last name: Bard. And she had a boy, a boy named..."

Elsie gasped.

"Incomius." He began to cry in earnest now. "My own brother...I screamed at him...wanted to kick him out of the house..."

Mrs. McKinnon drew her husband to her bosom and let him cry into her dress. Elsie had her face buried in Sisuat's fur. But Imogene was blazing from within. Her cheeks were flushed and bright. "How do you know he was telling the truth?" she blurted.

Her father stared at her with puffy red eyes. "A man knows his brother, Imogene. When he, when he left, he looked right at me, eye to eye, and his were the same color as mine exactly." Elsie's jaw slackened. She hadn't been able to tell his eye color under those eyebrows of his.

"Maybe he...bewitched them or something, to make them look like yours. Maybe it was all a trick!" cried Imogene. "Maybe Hogwarts is a bad place, and he's trying to trick you into sending Elsie there!"

Elsie was furious, and set Sisuat on the ground so she could get to her feet in anger. The feline seemed passive and disinterested, and began to lick a paw. But Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon were staring at their older daughter as if they had never seen her before. Mr. McKinnon looked as though he had swallowed something very unpleasant. "Impossible. The memories he gave me...so real..." But he seemed to doubt himself. He gripped the side of his chair as if for dear life. Mrs. McKinnon looked about to cry.

But Elsie was in a blind rage. Her posture was hunched forward, her arms out front like a predator's claws preparing to strike. "I _hate_ you, Imogene!" she shrieked. "You might look like me but _you're not my sister_!"

Mrs. McKinnon gasped and covered her mouth; Imogene looked ready to leap at Elsie; then there was a tap, the sound of something hard and sharp against glass.

There was an owl at the window.

Imogene screamed. Elsie threw open the window. The spectacled owl was unruffled by the emotional chaos and landed nonchalantly on the coffee table. At close range, they could see that the owl's letter was a golden scroll. They all stared. Mrs. McKinnon let out a strangled wheeze. Then the owl opened its beak and let the scroll fall onto the table. It opened up neatly to reveal a set of lips drawn on it. The lips opened and sang.

The voice was soft and dark, a little quavering perhaps. It was richly feminine and expressive, and Elsie had a feeling that she knew what it meant, even though she could not understand the words themselves, or even recongize what language it was in.She knew that it was about how there was a world of strife outside, but it was safe here, because she was among family. She couldn't help but reach out and hold her mother's hand.

The song's effect on Mr. McKinnon was dramatic and instantaneous. He was curled fetally in his chair, rocking rhythmically and trembling. Its effect on Imogene was gradual but no less noticeable: her expression was no longer defiant, but ashamed. She took Elsie by the hand. Mrs. McKinnon linked up with her husband, so that they were one family, united. The song ended, and the voice concluded, "Love, Francine." Then the lips faded from the golden paper, and the spectacled owl flew away.

"That was her voice," whispered Mr. McKinnon. "I remember."

"Incomius, I...don't know what to say! Why did I never hear of all this?"

"Do you think I want it put about that I'm a Death Eater's son? Aberforth never told the village how Francine came to be pregnant, and neither did she! I'm showing this to you in strict confidence because I trust you, Filius. You were my favorite professor and you're still my closest friend among the Hogwarts staff."

"Aberforth and Albus did your mother a great service. But are you sure it was a good idea to show all this to the Muggles? You have permission to do all of this, correct?"

"Of course. Minerva cleared it with the Ministry. And I do believe it was necessary. Do you not see how this was tearing the family apart? Especially Imogene."

"I must say, you did an excellent job with the letter. Was it the charmed quill I gave you last Christmas?"

"None other. The honor's all yours, Filius, only you could have charmed a quill like that. Once I told Francine that the secret was out to Gary, she was all to eager to send him that much-needed communique, even though she has no memory of him. She dictated, so to speak, and that marvelous quill did the rest."

"It must have been terrible, to meet your brother for the first time and face only his hatred."

"I'm afraid I expected no less. When I pick her up to take her to Diagon Alley, I hope to have a fonder reunion with Gary."

"I wish you the best of luck. I have about a dozen more questions for you, I'm afraid, not least among them how you put together this remarkable invention of yours."

"That's a bit too long a story to tell right now, Filius. One story at a time, that's what I like to say to the students. Don't want to overload their dear little heads. Ha ha, you know I'm joking. Would you care to see the thoughts I gave Gary for yourself? Feel free to use my Pensieve at your leisure. _Mis pensamientos son sus pensamientos._"

"Hmm?"

"It's a saying from the Spanish wizard who invented the Pensieve. You know, Don Sebastián de Santos. 'My thoughts are your thoughts'. There's a book about him in the library, actually, by that title."

"At the rate you're going with your invention, you'll be the next de Santos, Incomius. Have some firewhisky ready for me when I'm out of the memories."

"Firewhisky? You never drink firewhisky!"

"Judging from what you've shown me so far, I'm going to need it after these memories."

"Point taken."


	5. Chapter 5: From One World to the Next

_**Disclaimer: **Don't sue me. I don't claim to own any of the characters and plots that are rightly Rowling's. It's all hers._

_Watch out for more angst this chapter. And a next-gen character ;)_

"I can trust you to keep all this secret, Filius."

"Of course, of course...I know what it's like to keep secrets...especially about one's family..."

"This is fascinating talk, I admit, but I dare say you've had a bit too much firewhisky. Soon you're going to start saying things you don't want to say, and I wouldn't want you doing that."

"I trust you, Incomius...oh dear, did that just fall? In any case, you were an excellent student, and an even better colleague."

"I think you ought to get to bed now. Take my arm. That's it. Let's go upstairs."

That very night, Elsie removed Sisuat's collar. It was as if - well, it wasn't _as if_ - a spell had been broken. Sisuat leapt out the window, landed gracefully on all four paws, and darted off into the night. Elsie watched her go, but lost sight of her almost immediately. She was adept as any cat at escaping notice, after all.

Incomius did not appear immediately, as Elsie had hoped he would. Long after her family was soundly asleep, she lay restless in bed and waited for him to come. He didn't. Eventually, she fell asleep in spite of herself. She dreamt that Imogene was trying to steal her music box, and Elsie held it close and tried to run away with it so her sister couldn't get at it...

Elsie had that dream for the rest of the summer, without reprieve. It seemed to haunt her every time she closed her eyelids. It irritated her and made her uncharacteristically irascible, but her family seemed to have lost a great deal of tension, like a taut string that had been suddenly cut. Her father was getting out of the house far more often. Her mother was able to concentrate on her business instead of spending all day nursing him. Even Imogene had lightened up, Elsie's dream notwithstanding.

Melanie came to visit more often, bearing news of Susie's whereabouts. Apparently her sister Paula had many glamorous, rich friends who wore designer clothes, smoked cigarettes, drank vodka, and had even richer boyfriends. "She doesn't like them very much," Melanie disclosed. "She didn't want to admit it, but she thinks the cigarettes and vodka are gross."

"Cigarettes and vodka _are_ gross," Elsie said, wrinkling her nose. "But why didn't she want to tell you?"

"She knew I would tell you all about it," explained Melanie, "and she doesn't want to talk to you because you're babyish, she says. I think she wants to feel more grown-up, so she goes out with Paula's friends, but she doesn't like the 'grown-up' things they do after all. She wants you to admire how grown-up she is."

"Well, I think she's being very childish herself," said Elsie crossly. "Magic isn't childish. Grown-ups believe in it too, just in different ways. When Mum and Dad take me to church, they say the wine and little bread things turn into the blood and body of Jesus. Isn't that magic?"

Melanie looked pensive, and a little confused. "They don't call it magic, though."

"Just because they don't _call_ it magic doesn't mean they don't believe it is."

"Maybe I'll tell Susie."

"Yeah."

But Susie never wanted to visit anyway, no matter what schemes Elsie and Melanie dreamed up to get her back. Elsie was very fond of Melanie, but she wanted Susie back. The bitterness of infighting only made her more mercurial at home, even as her family became more relaxed. They loved Melanie and welcomed her visits, barely noticing Susie's absence. Elsie's dream started to include Susie, who would jeer at Imogene and tell her that the music box was junk, though that hardly slaked her desire for the toy. Melanie kept asking her whether she would be able to write letters to her at school, and she didn't know what to say but "I don't know", even though she had a gut feeling that it would be impossible. All of this brought Elsie to a constant low boil. Whenever she wasn't with Melanie, she was in her room, drawing pictures in only red and orange tones.

Therefore, when Incomius finally Apparated in her bedroom, Sisuat draped elegantly across his shoulders, Elsie did not respond with the same delight that she might have expressed only a month ago. Truthfully, she had even started to give up hope that he would ever come back. She just yelped and let a green crayon drop from her hand.

Incomius peered down at Elsie's latest drawing. It was of her music box, etched in fiery color. "Elsie," said Incomius delicately, "did you just draw that with a _green_ crayon?" She stared at the green crayon. All of her other crayons were stashed in her desk, out of reach.

"Maybe," was all she said.

Sisuat leapt to the floor and prowled about the room. Incomius just tugged Elsie to her feet gently by her hands, then swept her into a hug. "I wanted to do this the first time I saw you," he said, "but you wouldn't have understood then."

Elsie wept into her uncle's lavender robe. Between sobs, she gasped, "Oh, Mr. Bard - Incomius, I mean - this magic - my sister's so jealous - and one of my best friends won't talk to me anymore - "

"Oh dear," he said, angling her face upward gently with a finger under her chin, "did you tell a Muggle about magic?" Elsie just nodded. "I know she's your friend, Elsie, but you can't tell Muggles. They won't ever believe you. We wizards live in the utmost secrecy. We've hidden ourselves away so that no Muggle ever suspects, like they used to, back in the dark time. You mustn't let anyone outside your family know." She began to cry into his robe again. "I know it's hard keeping secrets, Elsie. I've had to keep so many things secret. But you learn."

"Are you taking me to school now, Incomius?" asked Elsie, sniffling. She pulled away, and began to wipe tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Sisuat came up behind her and rubbed her head against Elsie's leg.

"Not quite yet, dearie," said Incomius. "I have to discuss payment with your parents. I've already sent off the owl, but they've got to cough up some Galleons, then we'll go get your school supplies."

"Galleons? What are those? It's 27th August! Why didn't you visit me?"

"Galleons are wizard money, and I couldn't visit you because we have another secret, Elsie, besides our magic." Elsie was not happy to hear this, but Incomius plowed on all the same. "We can't let anyone know that we're related. You can tell everyone that we're friends, and we get along well. You must call me Mr. Bard and not Incomius or Uncle, when we're not alone."

"Why?" demanded Elsie.

"I showed your father the bad people who got Francine pregnant. They are _very_ bad people, Elsie. They're all dead or in prison now, but no one wants to hear that one of them was my father. They would think that I might be bad like them."

Elsie was somber. "Incomius, why would they do something like that? My parents told me about sex and babies and all that, but they told me sex was something that happened between people who love each other. My gran didn't love these bad people, did she?"

"Elsie, oh, Elsie," he sighed. He sat on the little wicker chair beside her desk, and gathered Sisuat into his arms. "She didn't. She didn't love them at all. These people are called Death Eaters, and they forced her into sex, exactly the way it shouldn't be. What they did is called _rape_, and it hurt her terribly. That's why the Death Eaters were all killed or imprisoned. They raped and murdered and tortured people. And one of them was my father. That's why my family must be a secret." He saw Elsie's eyes were shining with tears again, so he got up and patted her shoulder. "They're all gone, dearie. It won't happen again. You're safe. Your family is safe. Your gran is living quite happily in Hogsmeade. She survived."

"Go talk to my parents," said Elsie. "I'm going to pack." Incomius did not quite know how to be a good uncle, and hesitated at her door. But his niece was already dragging a trunk out of her closet and stashing her music box in it, so he went downstairs.

Elsie didn't bother packing any clothes. It seemed that all wizards wore robes and nothing else. She would be out of place in Muggle clothing. So she packed standard school supplies, like notebooks and pens, some underwear, and a few prized possessions, like her music box. That left plenty of room for all the magical supplies her acceptance letter called for.

Huffing, she pulled the trunk step by step down the stairs: kaaa-THUNK, kaaa-THUNK, kaaa-THUNK! Once she got to the bottom of the stairs, she could actually hear her father and her uncle talking. Their voices were reassuringly animated and warm; they must have had a nice chat while she was packing. She would have liked to see them properly reunited, but this was enough to help lift her spirits.

"I know where to get some slightly secondhand items that won't pinch your pocket so much, Gary, leave it to me...I think I can get her all the supplies she needs for, oh, 125 Galleons. Hrm, Muggle money, right, can't recall what the exchange rate is right now..."

Elsie hauled her trunk into the sitting room in time to watch Incomius reach deep into his robes and pull out a large book that should not have fit in them. It was entitled _A Wizard's Guide to the Muggle World_. She hugged her mother and father, smiled at her contrary sister, and sat down next to her uncle. Finally, he arrived at the appropriate page. Elsie peered at it. It was a number chart with conversions between different currencies. "Hmm...there, British pound." He took out his wand from another improbable pocket in his robes and prodded the page with it, a look of concentration on his face. The numbers rearranged themselves and melted into each other kaleidoscopically, until they coalesced into a single number.

"775 pounds should do it." Seeing the look of alarm on the McKinnons' faces, he added hastily, "Don't worry, she can reuse many of these supplies for all seven years she's at Hogwarts! Only a little more will be required each year to purchase larger robes she grows into, and more advanced textbooks. Also, perhaps 15 more Galleons for pocket money."

Without hesitation, Gary went to his office, wrote out a check, and went back to the sitting room to present it to his brother. "I think Gringotts will take this," said Incomius. "Thanks."

"Gringotts...?" said Audrey.

"The wizarding bank of London."

"Ah." Gary looked at Elsie, and his eyes began to shine with tears. "Will she be able to send us post?"

"Of course!" exclaimed Incomius. "Hogwarts has an Owlery. She can send you owls as often as she likes."

Audrey took Elsie's hand and said, "Don't forget to write us every week, Elsie. Send a, er, owl." Then both her parents got up to embrace her and kiss her, their cheeks wet and beaming. When they peeled away, Imogene still hadn't gotten up.

So Elsie flew at her sister, kissed her fiercely, and said, "I love you, Imogene, no matter what. Magic doesn't make me any different. I'm still your sister."

"Thank you, Elsie," she said quietly. "You know I'll be there for you no matter what. I mean it. I've really been mean to you. Write me too. You know my address."

"Don't forget to come up with a school to tell everyone I'm attending," said Elsie. "Melanie and Susie asked me about that once."

"We shan't," said Audrey. The family embraced, all four of them, then Incomius took the tearful Elsie and her trunk outdoors.

Sniffling, Elsie still couldn't help but comment, "You're very strong, Incomius. That trunk is heavy. I could barely get it down the stairs. But you just treat it as if it were a feather."

"I'm not strong at all, my dear. I just used the Featherweight Charm on it. Give it a lift." Elsie tugged the handle, and yelped when that small movement swung it up into the air! In her astonishment, she let the trunk go flying, and it landed with a very small _thump_ in front of her on the lawn. "You'll learn how to do that at school, Elsie. You'll never know how you managed without magic!" Then, from yet another improbable pocket, he removed a large cloak that shifted and crawled with color so that it beguiled Elsie into looking elsewhere, anywhere but its kaleidoscopic fabric. "This is an invisibility cloak. It has a very nice Bedazzling Hex on it, and I got it only a month ago, so it should last us the trip for sure. No one'll see us disappear." Then he threw it over them both.

The cloak felt very light and cool over them. It did not have the same effect on her eyes from within as from without: she could see the world around them quite comfortably. "Incomius?" She clasped his hand tightly. "What does it feel like to disappear?"

"Apparation takes some getting used to, but it's not painful," he said reassuringly. And then it happened. Reality squeezed around her, forced the breath out of her, tried to shut her up into an indefinably small space...

Then they were free, inside an old bar with a cozy feel. The bartender was a very young man, just out of school, probably. He was short and stocky, with brown hair and a mischievous look in his eye. Incomius greeted him enthusiastically. "Fred! I didn't know you were working here! I was wondering what you'd do out of Hogwarts, you rascal, with your miserable O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, and here you are, replacing poor old Tom, may he rest in peace."

They shook hands. Fred the barman said, "Oh, it's fun here, Mr. Bard, I get to meet so many fascinating people! Why, just the other day this lady came in, and she was - "

Incomius leaned in and said in low, urgent tones, "Is your father getting on all right, Fred?"

The exuberant young man's mood sank considerably. "Well, you know, I never knew him well, but since he's settled down a bit lately, I took your suggestion, and I've been to visit George a lot lately. He keeps trying all these different wacky spells, even makes some up sometimes, you know, to keep him sane. He holds up well in public, but when he's alone, that's when all the bad thoughts come in. Well, I've found that a well-cast Cheering Charm puts him right better than any arcane potion, and it's doing him - "

"I'm glad to hear it, Fred," said Incomius earnestly. "Longbottom worries about him terribly, and so do all his other friends, I'm sure. I'll tell them."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Bard. I really do regret not having known him better."

"It's quite all right. Now, I have a new Hogwarts student here from a Muggle family, I've got to help her get supplies. It's great to see you, Fred."

"So long, Mr. Bard." Incomius took his niece by the hand and led her to the back, where there was a plain brick wall which did not appear to Elsie to be any more magical than the bar.

"Incomius, who was that guy at the bar? And what's this wall all about?"

Her uncle was tapping his wand on the bricks, muttering under his breath. He interrupted his self-dialogue to say, "He's the son of a man you'll come to know and love as a young witch. Most children your age take delight in his merchandise...ah, here it is..." He give the brick a forceful tap, and the brick facade fell away to a world of noisy delight.

"Diagon Alley," declared Incomius.


End file.
